Page 20 of Stolen Voices

Before I can stop myself, I ask, “Do you want to ride with me to the studio later?”

What the fuck is wrong with you? You’re supposed to avoid her, not drive her.

The temperature in the room skyrockets, and my back sweats. I idly roll up my cuffs, drawing Callie’s attention. Her cheeks turn pink as she bites her lip.

Don’t like that she’s affected. Don’t like that she’s affected,I chant in my head. My cock twitches and I clear my throat, drawing her attention back to my face—where it should stay. “Callie?”

“Um,” Callie hums, and her eyes bounce between mine as she licks her lips.

Please say no. Save us both, Calliope,I beg her.

A multitude of thoughts cross her face before she says, “Okay.”

Ignoring the way my heart stutters at her agreeing to ride with me, I give her a curt nod. Like an idiot, I point at the main seating area in front of the stage. “Okay. I’ll be over there.”

“Cool.” A slow smile spreads across Callie’s face, revealing a deep dimple on the left side of her cheek.

Holy hell. She’s beautiful, and I am so … fucked.

Before I put my foot in my mouth again, I grab my jacket and laptop bag, then rush to my seat. For the next two hours, I try to concentrate on my work and not on the woman on stage who sparkles and dances like an angel under the lights.

six

Callie

Mybodytingles,andlittle bubbles fizzle in my stomach with anticipation and excitement as I rush through my shower. My clit pulses thinking about Eli waiting outside my dressing room, ready to take me to the studio.

Ignoring the need to touch myself, I turn off the water, grab my towel, and dry off as quickly as I can. I replay the sound of Eli’s deep, warm voice in my head.

“Do you want to ride with me?”

With the way his alluring eyes widened in surprise at his own question, I should have said no, but I couldn’t resist saying yes.

I blame him and his damn forearm porn. When he started rolling up his shirt sleeves, I was done for. The neurons in my brain misfired, my body temperature rose to an unbearable degree, and I couldn’t stop myself from agreeing.

Being near Elijiah Miller does things to me. Good or bad things? I don’t know, but I want to find out.

Even when Eli’s being a total asshat and insulting, he ignites a fire inside me that burns furiously. It’s a confusing-as-hell mix of rage and lust, and I don’t know whether I want to slap him or kiss him. I’ve never felt that with anyone before. I know I should stay away from him. He’s older. I work with him. Silla would kill me. The list goes on, but he has this invisible pull on me.

From the moment Eli stopped me from falling flat on my face, my heart decided on him.

I’ve fought my feelings by keeping my distance. It was easy since Hudson is my agent, but with him gone and Eli taking his place, I’m finding it hard to stay away. Since he spied on me in my dressing room and said, “You sounded beautiful. You should sing like that more often,” all my thoughts have led back to him.

One little compliment, and Eli’s slipped through the tiniest crack in my walls.

I’m under constant scrutiny from the public, my manager, and myself, and I can’t remember the last time someone genuinely complimented my voice. His words were exactly what I needed to hear in that moment, when my heart was open and raw. He reminded me why I sing and whom I sing for.

After lotioning my face and body, I slip on a pair of dark-blue skin-tight jeans, a white crop tank and a matching flowy sheer blouse over, and my Doc Martens. I’m not big on makeup when I’m not performing—and my skin appreciates the occasional breather—so I only smear on a touch of mascara and lip gloss. To finish my outfit, I slide my mom’s gold bangles onto my wrist. I grab my journal and place it in my bag before picking up my hoodie and heading for the door.

As I step out of my dressing room, I find Eli whispering to my driver, Mike. I take a second to appreciate the sight before me. Looking hot as hell, Eli runs his hand over his chin as he listens to whatever Mike is telling him. Eli could be a suit model with the way his jacket drapes over his forearm. His other hand rests in his pocket as his laptop bag hangs over his shoulder, pulling at his shirt and accentuating his firm, broad chest. His perfectly tailored slacks mold flawlessly to his round butt.

Ugh, why does he have to look so good?

Eli notices me standing in the hallway, and I pray he didn’t see me gawking at him. He excuses himself and walks toward me. “Took you long enough.”

Ignoring his snarky remark, I watch my driver hurriedly disappear down the hall.Weird. “Is everything okay with Mike?”

“Yep.” His clipped tone has me confused and a little annoyed.